


A Good Day

by whelvenwings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Nerd Dean, Punk Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 22:27:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1874754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whelvenwings/pseuds/whelvenwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas have never really got on, until the day that Dean finds Cas having a panic attack and comforts him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Day

Cas was having a bad day.

It was the first time in a while; the past few days had actually been fairly good. He’d attended all his classes, eaten properly at every single meal, and even made a couple of phone calls without incident. He’d exchanged words with Garth and Charlie, which he thought had probably gone quite well. And when Dean Winchester had started his usual good-natured teasing, he’d managed to reply in kind, and only been a little shaky afterwards.

“How’s it going, Novak?” Dean had said. “Still rocking the eyeliner and trenchcoat look, huh? It’s getting kind of old, man.”

“Winchester,” Cas had responded, squinting up at Dean from his spot on a sunny bench, ignoring the crowd of friends that Dean had with him. “Still rocking the nerd glasses, and that dumbass attitude? It’s older than my coat.”

Dean’s eyes had glinted: half annoyed, half impressed. Yes, that had been a good day.

Today, on the other hand, was not good. Cas had turned up to his nine o’clock class on time, feeling jittery and strange from the very beginning. He’d tried to take deep breaths, to ignore the rapid beating of his heart, but after half an hour the world began to get skewed and bizarre, his teacher’s voice like a shrill wailing over the  _thudthudthud_ of his pulse, and he’d had to stumble out of class to get a drink of water. Now he was sitting on his usual bench with his eyes closed, trying to breathe normally and stop shaking. He cracked his eyes open, but it made the rushing in his ears increase and he felt nausea rising, so he closed them again. Safe in the dark, safe in the dark, he said to himself, like a litany. Safe in the dark and quiet…

“What's with the closed eyes, Novak?” called a loud, cheerful voice. “Did you accidentally see yourself in the mirror this morning? Or are you afraid you’ll be dazzled by my good looks?”

Cas could hear people laughing, the sound getting nearer as the group approached. He opened his eyes, his first thought to flee – he picked up his bag and tried to stand, but stumbled and nearly fell, crashing hard into somebody and clinging on to their arm to stay upright. The sound of giggling increased, and the person shoved him off; he fell backwards, landing hard on the floor.

“Easy,” came Dean’s voice from behind Cas, sounding annoyed. Cas shrivelled, but Dean was talking to the person who’d pushed him, a big guy who Cas thought might be called Gordon. Dean extended his hand; Cas almost took it, but then remembered that his palms were sweating and his fingers were shaky, so he pulled himself to his feet with as much dignity as he could. His whole world was swooning in and out of blurriness, his breathing was faster than ever, and he could feel tears brimming. Without another glance at Dean or Gordon or anybody, Cas pushed furiously through the circle of muttering students and walked away, breaking into a run as soon as he was out of sight.

**

Cas sat huddled in an abandoned classroom, knees tight to his chest, head tucked down, humming quietly in his throat to drown out the sickening rush in his ears and the laughing, laughing, laughing of Dean’s friends, playing over and over again in his head. He scowled furiously into the dark behind his closed eyelids, and ran his tense, trembling fingers through his spiked hair.

“Cas?”

Even though the tone was softer than he’d ever heard it before, Cas recognised Dean’s voice. He froze, hoping that Dean would lose interest and move on if he didn’t respond.

“Cas, are you OK? I thought you looked upset, man, but I didn’t think – is this because of what I said? Or because the guys were laughing at you? They’re just a bunch of nerds, man. We all are. We don’t mean any harm, you know that, right?”

Dean’s questions were too much; Cas felt the pounding in his head rising to almost unbearable levels. He must have groaned aloud, because Dean’s voice moved closer, became even gentler.

“Whoa, whoa, easy there,” he said. “Are you sick?”

Cas breathed as deeply as he could, and looked up. Dean was standing awkwardly over him, his eyes full of concern. Cas’ head swam.

“I am having a panic attack,” he said, glaring down at the floor. “It makes me shake and sweat and vomit. Leave me alone.”

Dean hesitated for a second, then knelt. When Cas didn’t object, he shuffled a little closer.

“You get these often?” he asked. He sounded calm, Cas realised, his surprise slowing the frantic beat of his heart for a second. Normally, people ran as far and as fast as they could when Cas explained what was happening. He’d learned to deliberately make his description as blunt and physical as possible, so that people would get grossed out and leave sooner.

“Yes,” he said. “I have an anxiety disorder.”

“So, what, every day? Every two days?” Dean paused, and when Cas didn’t answer, he put out his hand and rested it tentatively on Cas’ knee. “How come I never knew about this?”

Cas managed to laugh.

“I don’t normally bring it up in conversation,” he said. “It tends to freak people out. I’m normally good at hiding it. And sometimes I have good days. I have been having a few good days recently. But today I am having a bad day.”

Dean moved his thumb back and forth on Cas’ knee. He could feel his heart rate returning almost to normal, and his sight and hearing had both cleared.

“I read somewhere that you don’t  _have_ good days. You make them,” Dean said, the fingers of his other hand twisting nervously in his knitted sweater.

Cas gritted his teeth. He’d heard every platitude and lame cure-all under the sun from his family, and that one was his least favourite. He scowled.

“Shut up, Dean,” he said, and stood up, and left. With any luck, he thought, Dean would be so put off by his rudeness that he wouldn’t talk to Cas again, and there wouldn’t be any more opportunities for gut-twisting moments like the one today. Ignoring the hollow in his belly, Cas went home.

**

Cas dragged his feet as he walked through the corridors towards his class. He didn’t feel good; today was sure to be a bad day, and he’d have to leave class again, and everyone would be watching, and Dean would probably have told everybody so they’d all be talking about it, and…

Cas turned. He was going home. No way was he staying here to be ridiculed.

“Hey, Cas!” came a bright, excited call from down the hallway.

Disbelieving, Cas swivelled. Striding towards him, holding a pair of coffee cups and wearing a beaming smile, was Dean Winchester.

“Dean,” he said, taking the coffee cup that Dean was proffering. He frowned down at it as though it had personally offended him. “What are you doing?”

“Making today a good day,” Dean said, putting a hand on Cas’ shoulder. “Come on, let’s get to class. Can I sit with you today?”

“I wasn’t going to –” Cas began, but tailed off, biting his lip. “Yes,” he said in a low voice. “I would like that.”

They sat near the back, like Cas preferred. He let Dean slide in first, so that he’d be at the end of the row, ready to run out of the door if he felt an attack coming.

“So, you ready to do some learning?” Dean was saying blithely. “I’m not a big fan of the whole Dickens thing myself, kinda dry.”

“He isn’t my favourite either,” Cas agreed, only half concentrating, waiting for his heart rate to rise as it always did when the teacher came in. Sure enough, he felt his pulse increasing when Mr Singer walked through the doors to the hall and stood at the front of the rows of chairs.

“Hey,” Dean said, seeming to sense Cas’ growing tension. “Breathe. Slowly, OK? And not too deep. You’ll flood your brain with oxygen and make it worse. Trigger your fight-or-flight response.”

Cas sent Dean a sidelong glance.

“Have you always known this much about breathing patterns?” he asked, whilst doing as Dean said. His heart slowed.

“Did some reading,” Dean mumbled. “Anyway. Class is starting.”

As Mr Singer began talking, Cas opened his book and took his notes. He felt clear-headed, not even slightly shaky. A spasm of anxiety shot through him when he suddenly thought that Dean might be watching him, waiting for him to freak out – but when he glanced to his left, Dean’s eyes were fixed on Mr Singer, oblivious to Cas’ attention.

“So I was going to go to the mall,” Dean said after class. “Grab a bite to eat, do some shopping. Wanna come?”

Cas considered.

“You’ve got other people to go with,” he pointed out. “People who won’t freak out because they dropped something or because the music’s too loud. Go with them.”

He turned away, but then Dean said simply,

“I want to go with you, Cas.”

Still facing away, Cas felt his resolve melt, and a little golden light flicker to life inside his ribcage. Dangerous, he knew. Happiness never lasted long. He always screwed up somehow, and usually hurt someone in the process – but Dean was standing behind him, radiating security and warmth as naturally as the sun itself, and he didn’t have any plans…

“Okay, then. I’ll come. Thank you for asking me,” Cas said, turning back to face Dean, who smiled incredibly wide.

“My car’s out back. Come on,” he said, reaching out one hand in Cas’ direction and beginning to walk away. Cas wondered briefly if he were meant to grab it, but shelved the thought quickly. Sure, it’d be nice to walk down the halls hand-in-hand with Dean Winchester, but that wasn’t what this was like. This was just two people going to the mall together, plain and simple.

Dangerous, Cas found himself thinking again. Dangerous.

At the mall, everything was just as garish and tacky as Cas remembered. He hadn’t been here since he’d been diagnosed, for fear of making a fool of himself; with Dean beside him, though, he allowed himself to walk with a little confidence. He tilted his chin up, swung his arms.

“Do you wanna eat first, or shop?” Dean asked, pausing at the window of a clothing store selling leather jackets.

“Eat,” Cas said decisively. “If that’s OK.” He’d rather get it over with – he hated eating in public, and ordering, and figuring out how to pay the bill – ask for the check, or pay at the till, what if his card were rejected? What if he dropped all his change and then had to scramble around on the floor for it whilst everyone stared? What if –

“Sure,” Dean said. “Let’s go.”

He steered them towards a burger place, tucked around a corner, nice and quiet. Standing at the counter, Dean ordered a large cheeseburger. Tapping his fingers together in a furious rhythm, Cas managed to say that he’d like the same. They sat down, Dean watching him curiously.

“That wasn’t easy for you, was it?” he said.

“No,” Cas admitted. “It’s pathetic.”

Dean frowned.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. “It’s fine for things to be hard. You just have to practise them more, I guess.”

Cas had been expecting Dean to say that he’d order for him next time, just like his mom did. Maybe Dean thought he could do it by himself; or maybe Dean had already decided there wouldn’t be a next time. Cas swallowed, and fidgeted with his eyebrow piercing.

When their food arrived, Dean dug in with so much gusto that Cas was able to take his first bite without worrying whether he was being watched. The burger was so completely delicious that he’d devoured the entire thing in a matter of minutes, not even bothering to check if Dean were looking at him when he took large, appreciative bites. He licked his greasy fingers, and glanced up to see Dean’s eyes tracking the movement of his tongue. He stopped abruptly, blushing. Dean seemed to realise what he’d been doing, and sat up straight.

“Shopping?” he suggested with a half-smile. Cas nodded, his mind whirling.

Why was Dean doing this? Was it charity, or was it because he actually liked Cas? And what if it were because he  _liked_ Cas? The thought sent a sizzling tingle down Cas’ spine.

They visited a few shops, and Dean bought a paperback book – for his brother Sam, he’d explained – and a new pen.

“I used up all the ink in my old one,” he said. “I was trying to list all the awesome things about myself.”

Cas punched him lightly in the arm.

“What?” Dean laughed. “Too far?”

Later on, they saw some of Dean’s friend group strolling along outside Burger King. Cas half-expected Dean to duck out of sight, but he walked past them with a nod and a smile, which they returned with slightly confused expressions.

“They’re wondering what you’re doing with me,” Cas said tonelessly.

“Let ‘em,” Dean said comfortable, slinging his arm around Cas’ shoulders and pulling him into the next shop, one full of punk t-shirts that Dean made him try on, pushing more and more through the curtain of the changing room where Cas was dressing and undressing in front of the mirror. He ended up buying two, one Dean’s favourite, the other his own.

It was all going wonderfully, until they hit the Apple store.

Under the white lighting, with the high buzzing of laptops and desktops ringing in his ears, Cas felt his uneasiness rising. He took a small, steadying breath. It would be fine. Nothing bad was happening, he was just shopping.

“Hey there! My name’s Cassie! How can I help you?!” said a tall, pretty girl in the too-enthusiastic tone of someone whose shift had only just begun.

“I – I’m just browsing,” Cas said in a low voice after a moment, surprised that Dean hadn’t answered rather than him. He looked to his right, and Dean wasn’t there.

“Well, let me know if there’s anything I can do! We’ve got a big sale on today!”

“W-what?” Cas stammered, raking the aisles for a sign of Dean. Nothing.

“A big sale! Half price on everything at the front of the store! So you just let me know if you need help picking something! Or if you have any questions! OK?”

Cas’ breathing was fast, far too fast, and he couldn’t slow it down. He wanted to sit down and close his eyes, but the girl was still watching him. Where was Dean? If he could just get outside, maybe he could calm down and then Dean would find him. But would Dean think that Cas had just ditched him, and go home? Then he’d have to get a taxi back to his house, only he didn’t have the cash, and –

The world suddenly seemed to magnify, and then was abruptly swallowed in darkness. A few seconds later – or maybe a few minutes, or hours, Cas was suddenly and horribly unsure – he could hear startled voices and rushing footsteps. His head was hurting, and his back felt strange until Cas realised it was pressed against the floor because he was lying down, and then a warm, gentle hand picked up his.

“Cas?” came Dean’s voice, at its most gentle.

“I can’t get up, Dean,” Cas said, hating the tremble in his voice. “I can’t, I’m sorry, I couldn’t see you and then –”

He felt Dean’s other hand come to rest on his forehead.

“Is this OK?” Dean asked, and Cas nodded. He lay there silently, his eyes firmly closed, trying to wrestle his mind back to clarity.

“Hey. Look at me,” said Dean, stroking his thumb across Cas’ temple, playing with his eyebrow piercing with his index finger. Cas cracked open his eyes; Dean’s face swam into view, his smile relaxed and kind, lit up brightly by the strip lights above. Cas felt his stomach drop, even as his panic lessened.

“We’re still in the Apple store,” he said in horror. “I – I fainted.”

“Yep,” Dean said, sounding unconcerned.

“I made a scene,” Cas said. “This – this was supposed to be a good day, and I made a scene. I haven’t done something this bad in a long time.”

“It’s OK, man,” said Dean, and Cas realised that his head was resting on Dean’s knees. “It’s fine. I’m sorry I left you. I got stuck talking to some annoying, dumbass salesman.” Dean rolled his eyes, still smiling a little.

“You should ask him out,” Cas murmured. “It’s not every day you meet someone you have that much in common with.”

Dean laughed, and flicked Cas’ ear lightly with a finger.

“Not my type,” he said. “I like my men under fifty.”

Cas was smiling, but after a moment it faded.

“I’m sorry that I ruined everything,” he said wretchedly. “I always screw things up, but today was supposed to be a good day and now it’s not, and it’s because of me.”

Dean’s smile had gone, and Cas felt cold inside.

“Weren’t you having fun before?” Dean demanded.

Cas nodded, pressing his mouth into a thin line so that it wouldn’t tremble.

“Yes,” he said in a deep, rough voice.

“And aren’t you excited for the next place I’m gonna take you? It’s a magical location. It’s called…  _my house_.”

Cas found his lips softening into a smile, his eyes widening in disbelief.

“Yes,” he murmured. “I’m excited.”

“Well, then,” Dean said briskly. “Quit calling this day ruined, will you? Because I’m quite enjoying it. Can you get up?”

Cas nodded, and slowly got to his feet. Dean stood next to him, a silent, steadying presence. He looked Cas in the eye, reached up to brush away a slight smear in his eyeliner with one finger.

“Let’s go,” he said, leading Cas out of the store. No one even looked at them as they left, and Cas suspected that Dean had told everyone to back off when he’d realised what had happened. He felt gratitude, and – something else, something hot and electric and new, coursing through his blood like a clean white fire.

**

“Welcome back, Castiel. It’s been a while since I last saw you. I didn’t think you would come back,” said Missouri.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t come for a long time,” Cas replied, trying to relax into the sofa, staring somewhere over Missouri’s left shoulder.

“What made you decide to start therapy again?” Missouri asked, leaning forward in her armchair. Castiel considered carefully before answering.

“I want to work on getting better,” he said eventually. “It’s important.”

“More important now than it was before?” Missouri asked. Cas shifted in his seat, tugging nervously at the chains on his black skinny jeans.

“I made a friend,” he said. “I think I did, that is. He took me to the mall yesterday, and then we went to his house and played videogames. He’s very good at Mariokart.”

Missouri said nothing.

“He’s very kind,” Castiel was forced to continue, to fill the space. “And very… relaxed. He doesn’t mind when I have an attack. He helps.”

“That sounds good,” Missouri said encouragingly.

“Yes,” Cas said, warming to his theme. “He is. He makes me think, maybe it could get better. Maybe the attacks don’t have to be such a huge issue. Last night, at his house, Dean was saying that they’re like being sick. It’s horrible when it’s happening, but when it’s gone, you don’t let it affect everything you do.”

Missouri nodded.

“I guess I already knew I should do that,” Cas said slowly. “I just didn’t think I could. But Dean makes it seem possible.”

“Is Dean making you better?” asked Missouri. Cas frowned.

“No,” he said. “Dean’s making me  _want_ to get better. I’m the only one who can decide when that happens.”

Missouri nodded again, smiling slightly.

“Are you having good days, Castiel?” she asked.

“Dean says we don’t have good days,” Cas said. “We make them.”

**

“What about going to the amusement park?” Dean asked on the phone that evening. Cas almost laughed aloud.

“That sounds impractical,” he said instead.

“Why? I’ll be there,” Dean replied. Cas could hear the sound of Yoshi celebrating in the background.

“Rainbow Road?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” Dean said, and Cas could hear the triumph in his voice. “First place. Now answer the question.”

Cas sighed.

“Dean, all the lights, the music, the crowds,” he said quietly. “I’ll never make it through the day without an attack.”

“So, you’ll have an attack. You’ll lie down for a bit and I’ll stroke your forehead like Florence Nightingale and then we’ll go about our business. So what?”

“So…” Cas hesitated. He liked rollercoasters, and cotton candy, and Dean. Should he be fighting this? “What if I lose you again?” he asked in a small voice. “What if we get separated?”

“Ah, well,” Dean said, in that same triumphant voice, and Cas suddenly knew with absolute certainty that he was going to end up going, “I have a plan.”

**

“This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done,” Cas said, as Dean finished tying the loop of red ribbon around Cas’ wrist.

“Seriously? Cas, you need to get out more,” Dean said, but his tone was light and teasing. He tugged experimentally, and his knot held. “It’s not too tight?”

“No, it’s fine,” Cas replied.

“Great. See, you can’t lose me if we’re tied together,” Dean said, waving the other end of the ribbon, which was securely fastened around his own right wrist. “You can run as fast as you want. There is no escape. I’m gonna be right next to you, all the time.”

Cas exhaled slowly.

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice small but clear and determined.

The amusement park was huge, and packed. Dean and Cas had to stay close to each other so that their ribbon wouldn’t snag on the people around them. They ate popcorn and hot dogs and cotton candy; Dean bounced on the bouncy castle like an exuberant puppy on a leash, with Cas waiting outside until Dean tugged on the red ribbon and held onto his arms as they bounced together, face to face, Cas laughing and falling over when Dean missed his footing and went smashing into the squashy castle wall. They had a go at the coconut shy, and they both missed every shot until Dean suggested that they try together, Cas’ hand wrapped around Dean’s: they hit the smallest, farthest coconut off its stand. The stall owner handed them a huge, fluffy red dragon, which they carried between them back to Dean’s car.

“Ready for some rides?” Dean asked as they stashed it away, Cas giving its nose a kind pat before slamming the lid of the trunk.

“Definitely,” Cas replied. They did the Ferris Wheel, Dean leaning out of their car and pointing excitedly at buildings he knew and especially-large trees and a helicopter, while Cas laughed and pulled him back in by the back of his jeans; they rode the Carousel, and Cas chose a pure white unicorn while Dean lazed next to him in a low, cushioned clamshell, running his hands through his hair and waving his legs together like a mermaid’s tail; they even tried the Teacups, and Cas felt everything whooshing and zooming around him like it did when he was having an attack, only this time he was spinning the wheel at the centre of their cup, controlling the motion, and Dean’s hands were right next to his own. Finally, they rocked up at the Big Dipper.

“No,” Cas said firmly, starting to move away and being brought to an abrupt halt by the red ribbon on his wrist.

“Please, Cas,” Dean wheedled. “For me?”

“It’s… huge,” Cas said, feeling that it was an understatement. “It’s colossal. We won’t survive. I might…” he broke off.

“I’ll be right next to you, remember?” Dean said, understanding the words Cas hadn’t spoken. Cas gritted his teeth, thinned his lips. After a long moment of deliberation, taking into account Dean’s hopeful expression and the continued existence in the mortal realm of the people coming off the ride, he sighed and nodded.

“Let’s do this,” he said.

Their car was small and slightly rusty. Cas held onto the bar that came down across their legs to hold them in place, his knuckles whitening slightly. Cas thought Dean was pretending not to notice, until he glanced across and realised that Dean’s grip was even tighter than his own. He bumped his shoulder into Dean’s.

“It’s not that high,” he said reassuringly.

“Nope,” Dean said, and Cas could hear the tension behind his deliberately calm tone. “It’ll be fine.”

 _Hiss, crack_. Metal on metal. The ride was about to begin.

“If we don’t survive,” Dean muttered, “I want you to know. I really…”

The wind tugged away the last of his sentence as the ride sprung to life. They raced up a steep slope, their little car screeching against the metal tracks; they levelled off, and slowed down just long enough that Cas could survey the fairground spread out beneath them. He looked over at Dean, and found that Dean was watching him with a smile on his pale face; with no time to feel nervous, he laughed aloud and whooped as they began their descent. He felt the roar of the wind in his ears, the drop in his stomach as they swooped down, and the tingle of blood rushing to his head. It was over too soon; Dean and Cas stepped out of the car, wobbly-legged and leaning on each other and laughing, Dean talking loudly about how scared he’d been, Cas describing the feeling of falling, both of them talking and listening at the same time. They began heading back to the car.

“Tunnel of Love, Tunnel of Love!” came a woman’s voice over the buzz of the crowd. “Anyone for the Tunnel of Love? How about you boys?”

Dean and Cas froze. Cas pulled his hand away from Dean’s shoulder.

“Us?” Dean said stupidly.

“Yeah,” said the girl, flicking back her blonde hair. “Why not?”

Dean looked at Cas, who was blushing but met his gaze.

“Uh,” said Dean, not taking his eyes off Cas.

“Yes,” Cas said suddenly, looking back at the girl. She grinned and gestured to the tunnel entrance; as if in a dream, Cas walked in, feeling Dean close behind him, no resistance on the red ribbon.

“Take a seat, guys,” said the girl, pointing to a heart-shaped, bejewelled car. Dean slid in first, followed by Cas. “Enjoy!”

The car moved off a little jerkily, carrying them through a beaded curtain into a darkened room full of glowing fluorescent lights and plastic doves resting on fake flower wreaths. Cas cringed. This had been a terrible idea; he wished they’d just gone home. He was pretty sure that most couples would already be making out by this point, and yet here they were sitting as far away from each other as they could, staring in different directions as though suddenly fascinated by artificial bouquets. Cas sent an agonised glance Dean’s way; Dean caught the look, and smiled slightly.

“I think they might’ve let my grandma do the design for this place,” he joked.

“You can lie if you want, but I know they consulted you,” Cas replied with a smile. “It’s just so…  _you_.” He watched a shower of sparkling confetti fall on them from the ceiling. The silence returned. Cas was about to remark on how he wished he’d never agreed to this, when he felt a whisper of air across the top of his hand, which was resting on the seat between the two of them - and then Dean’s hand came down to rest over his own. It was warm, and strong; their fingers interlaced slightly, and Cas ran his thumb over Dean’s, hooking them together.

They didn’t look at each other. Cas barely breathed for the rest of the ride. When they reached the end, Dean moved his hand away, letting his fingers linger for a second longer than necessary, making Cas’ heart stutter. He sent a small, questioning smile Cas’ way, and Cas beamed at him in return.

They drove home in a tired, companionable silence. When they reached Cas’ house, Dean walked Cas up to the door.

“Thank you for today, Dean,” Cas said, putting his key in the lock but not turning it.

“No problem, Cas. I guess we should…” he gestured to the ribbon between them.

“Yes,” Cas said, fumbling to untie it, but Dean reached out to do it for him with a quick tug.

“I’d better get going,” Dean said – somewhat ruefully, Cas thought, his heart giving a little kick of happiness.

“Yes. I’ll see you tomorrow, Dean.”

“Make it a good one,” Dean replied with a wink, about to step away. Seemingly on impulse, he leaned in suddenly and kissed Cas’ cheek. “Night, Cas.”

Cas opened the door, his hands shaking for all the right reasons. His smile was uncontrollable. Once inside, he pressed his fingers to the place where Dean’s lips had touched his skin.

It was going to be a good day tomorrow, Cas decided.

**

Dean was standing with his friends when Cas saw him for the first time the next day. Cas hadn’t managed to find him until well into the afternoon; he supposed Dean had been busy with other classes, or other friends. It didn’t matter; he was here now.

Sometimes, making a good day was about doing normal things, and enjoying them, Cas thought. And sometimes, it was about a moment of crazy courage, a Big Dipper moment.

Cas walked up to Dean, feeling his confidence grow when Dean saw him and waved enthusiastically.

“Cas!” he called.

Dean’s friends started to melt away, seeming to sense something private in the way the two of them were looking at each other. Cas kept walking until he was face to face with Dean, who was smiling at him warmly.

“Missed you this morning,” Dean said. “Had to go get my car fixed.”

He was holding a cup of coffee in his hands. Cas carefully lifted it out of his grasp, set it down delicately on the floor.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked, bemused. Cas stepped closer, taking care not to knock over the coffee cup. His heart was racing, but he wasn’t panicking, he was excited and giddy and so  _happy_ …

“I’m making today a good day,” he answered, and put his hand on Dean’s shoulder, pulled him closer, and kissed him on the lips.

It was small and quick and uncertain, until Cas felt Dean’s mouth curving into a smile under his own, and then Cas cupped Dean’s face between his hands and kissed him more soundly, pressing their bodies together. He loved the feel of Dean’s soft lips, and warm hands on his hips and up his back and in his hair. He made a small, contented noise at the back of his throat, and Dean responded by kissing him harder, pulling him closer. When they finally broke apart, Cas had his eyes wide open, looking at Dean’s mussed hair and flushed, freckled cheeks and slightly swollen lips.

“We’re going to do that again,” he said softly. “If that’s okay.”

Dean lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug.

“I suppose I could deal with it,” he said, unable to stop his smile from showing, crinkling up his eyes. He put the flat of his hand on Cas’ cheek, leaned in.

Cas didn’t make it to his last class, but it was still a very, very good day.


End file.
